Prelude II
by lynne z
Summary: Eames POV as she returns from maternity leave. set durring Unrequited


**A/N: This is a follow up to Prelude I. I think there's going to be one more set after Pas de Deux. This is told from Eames POV on her return from maternity leave. Please read and review.**

"_What was I suppose to do while I was pregnant; sit home and knit?"_

I'll be damned. He's jealous.

When the hell did that happen?

He's trying to hide it, but it's there in the corners of his eyes.

Bobby's been acting strangely, well stranger, ever since I got back last week. I don't think he wants me to see how glad he is to have me back, so he seems to be tip toeing around me.

There's something between us that wasn't there before; something that neither of us will address. Maybe we just have to get reacquainted with each other or maybe I've just changed too much.

When I told him that I had decided to do this for my sister he was very quiet, simply saying, "It's a lot to sacrifice."

I think he might have thought I was being naive about it, but I knew what I was getting into. I told him it was just something that I had to do, and thankfully he never pressed me as to why.

I'd like to say my motives were completely selfless. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy I could give my sister this gift, but I think what people don't realize is the gift she gave me.

My sister got cheated out of being able to carry her own child, while I got cheated out of the man who was suppose to give me mine. My mom always says I could find someone else if I just tried, but between work and, well work, where's the time to meet a nice man who wouldn't pale in comparison to the other men in my life (a ghost and a brilliant, but weary detective).

Doing this for Carrie meant both of us would at least get to walk half of a journey we otherwise wouldn't walk at all.

I don't guess I was expecting it to be this hard to pass him off to her. I had gotten use to talking to him when I was alone at night or scolding him for playing bongos with my bladder. I know it was hard for my sister to not be able to experience those things herself, and so I tried to stay patient with her when she practically moved into my house.

God, she drove me crazy. I love her dearly, but she has a tendency to nag.

But despite how much it hurt, when I saw my sister and her husband hold him for the first time I knew it was right, just like I knew I had to be the one to do it. I doubt that little boy will ever understand the things he has done to me; I'm not sure I fully understand them myself.

For the first time, probably since before Joe died, I feel like my life doesn't have to center around the job. I've never been good with overt emotional displays, so work became a welcomed distraction from the plans that died in a convenience store with a gun shot to the head.

Work has always been my safe place. Since Bobby Goren has entered that place, things have become less safe and more interesting, though the jury's still out on how much of a good thing that is.

Bobby's not the kind of person who you can trust your first impression of; if he was I probably would have shot him by now. He was so infuriating those first few months and I finally got frustrated to the point that I asked for a transfer.

But then something happened: for the first time I saw where his mind was going and it clicked; we clicked. I also figured out that he wasn't as big an asshole as he was letting on, but that he was keeping a safe distance until he knew that I was going to stick it out.

Now, after three years of working together, there's a shared affection between the two of us and a degree of trust that I've never had with a partner before. He still drives me crazy sometimes, but most of his quirks have become…endearing.

As I watch him reading through reports, I realize how much I missed seeing him everyday. He's become a constant in my life, and though we both know, in a static background noise kind of way, that we have lives and people outside of these grey walls and florescent lights, it was hard to actually see him going off with someone else.

As a partner, of course.

I remember Bishop desperately trying to keep up with him as he caught a scent and how I wished I was still the one going out there with him to look for that little stray fiber that only he would think of.

"Eames," he says as he rolls his chair to my desk. "Look at this."

He lays the report in front of me and taps his pen against the particular spot he wants me to read. His eyes catch mine for a moment and we share a quiet smile that no one else would notice. Both of us quickly turn back to the report as he begins to explain what he has found.

We got him.

We're back.


End file.
